Chapter Five
I hover outside The Hopeful Ghost pub for a second, psyching myself up to walk through the doors. I used to drink here, back when I was teen, and in some ways it seems no different, but you can tell the place has had a contemporary makeover. Sure, it still has its country pub charm, but they’ve obviously jazzed it up to appeal to the younger people in Marram Bay, and all the tourists that stop by our popular seaside town. It’s not exactly a cocktail bar in the centre of London, but I’ll bet it has more to offer than beer, cider and spirits – not that I minded that when I was a teen.
I told the girls I would meet them inside, saying that I needed to make a quick call, but really all I wanted was a few seconds to give myself a pep talk. It’s weird but every time I do something like this – something that feels like retracing my steps – I have a bit of a wobble. How can I move on with my life when it feels like I’m only going backwards?
Oh well, enough of the pity party, it’s time to join my friends.
It doesn’t take me long to spot Mel and Angie – Mel has always had one of those laughs that you can pick out in a crowd.
‘Right, sorry, that’s all sorted,’ I tell them as I join them.
‘That’s okay, you must have a lot to sort out,’ Angie replies. ‘With the move home and everything. Presumably, you have more to move?’
‘Those shoes look expensive,’ Mel points out. ‘Do you have more like that?’
I glance down at my heels almost self-consciously.
‘You had a rich boyfriend, right?’ Angie checks.
God, what has Mum told them.
‘I bought these for myself,’ I tell them.
‘Hmm,’ Angie says thoughtfully. ‘If I’d had a rich boyfriend, I would have milked him for all he was worth, while I had him.’
Lovely.
‘So, if we’re talking about the ex…’ Mel pipes up excitedly.
‘I’m just going to grab a drink,’ I tell them, talking over Mel, pretending I didn’t hear her. I wander off towards the bar before they can start quizzing me. I know, all it’s going to do is buy me a little time. I will have to face her questions at some point, but at least I’ll have alcohol in me.
The bar runs along the length of the back wall and tonight there are no less than six members of staff running around behind there, one of whom I recognise – it’s Tim, my ex, and Angie’s current. I purposely head to the other end of the bar, leaning over to see what they’ve got on offer.
‘Excuse me,’ I call out to the back of a man’s head.
‘Be with you in a sec,’ he replies.
I wait patiently for my turn but it never seems to come. In fact, I think I can see people coming and going, all while I’m still standing here.
‘Excuse me,’ I call out again.
‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ the barman calls back.
He’s flirting with the girl working alongside him. I don’t even think he’s realised that he’s already told me to wait once.
‘It’s just that I’ve been waiting for a while,’ I dare to pipe up.
‘If you’re going to be rude, I’m not going to serve you,’ he tells me with a smirk.
I feel like he’s trying to impress the girl next to him which really pisses me off. I’m your typical thirty-something woman, so I have no idea what I’m supposed to do in situations like this. I know that he shouldn’t be dismissing me like this, but at the same time I’m terrified of opening my mouth, because I just know that I’ll come across as a bitch.
‘Hey buddy, can I get a drink?’ a man asks as he rocks up next to me.
‘Of course, mate, what can I get you?’ the barman asks, over like a shot.
Oh. Ohhh, now that pisses me off. How typical that he’s happy to serve a man. And how frustrating that a man is pushing in front of me like this.
I turn to him, to say something, and as loath as I am to admit this, the fact he’s ridiculously good-looking stops me in my tracks. Bloody hell, I’m not surprised he’s getting served before me. He’s in his early thirties and he’s tall, dark, and handsome, with a seriously charming cheeky smile. I would probably give him whatever he wanted too.
‘Hmm, what can you get me,’ the man says as he scans the menu. Then he turns to me. ‘What do you fancy, darling?’
I freeze. He looks like he’s talking to me. Is he talking to me? Why would he be?
‘Darling?’ he prompts me. ‘This nice gent is waiting to take our drink order.’
‘Right, yeah, sorry,’ I babble as my brain catches up with me.
I don’t know why this random man is helping me to get served but I really appreciate it.
I glance at the fridges behind the bar.
‘Oh my God, they still make Kapop alcopops?’ I blurt as I clap eyes on the brightly coloured bottles.
Surely not? I thought they would have outlawed those by now. I haven’t had one since I was a teenager, I can’t believe it.
‘Yeah,’ the barman confirms. ‘You want one?’
You can tell he’s trying to fight off the disbelief in his voice.
‘Oh, absolutely,’ I reply, excited at the idea of a nostalgia hit. ‘I haven’t had one in a million years.’
‘We’ll a Kapop and a beer then,’ my new best friend tells the barman.
‘What flavour Kapop?’ the barman asks.
‘Blue, please,’ I reply.
Blue was always my favourite. In hindsight, I can’t remember what it was supposed to taste like, but we always ordered them by their colours anyway.
‘Okay, coming up,’ the barman says.
I stand in silence, next to my new friend, as we wait for our drinks. Neither us says a word, we just exchange smiles while the barman prepares our drinks.
‘Here you are, Mr L,’ the barman tells him, placing the drinks down in front of him. ‘On the house – sorry for keeping you waiting.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ the man, who I now know was Mr L, replies.
Mr L? He must be someone, some kind of big deal, if the barman knows his name, and he’s giving him free drinks. Oh, God, tell me that this isn’t Eric, Mel’s boyfriend, the one who owns the bar. It would be so typical if I just happened to bump into Marram Bay’s most handsome man, and he’s already dating my friend.
Mr L picks up my drink and holds it to his nose.
‘Mmm, blueberry,’ he says with a hint of playful sarcasm. ‘Enjoy.’
‘Thanks,’ I call after him as he walks away with his beer.
I take a sip of my bright blue drink straight from the bottle and, wow, it’s like I’ve gone back in time.
I make my way through the pub, dodging groups of people laughing, chatting and – I think – dancing, but the moves are questionable. As I sit down, Mel pushes a glass of Prosecco towards me.
‘Eric sent over Prosecco for the table,’ she says proudly.
‘That's sweet of him,’ I reply, taking a sip. ‘Where is Eric, by the way?’
I glance around, looking for the mysterious Mr L, hoping and praying that they aren’t the same person, but I don’t like my odds.
Mel points towards the bar.
‘He's over there, behind the bar,’ she tells me. ‘The one cleaning something off Tim's shirt.’
I follow her gaze and feel a wave of relief wash over me when I see Eric, who is definitely not my mystery man, dabbing at a stain on Tim's shirt. I look around the pub, trying to spot him, but there's no sign of him.
Mel leans in with a mischievous grin.
‘So, tell us, what's it like living in London?’ she asks.
‘Yeah, we want all the details,’ Angie adds. ‘I’ve never even been, you know, but it’s because I don’t want to, obviously.’
Oh, obviously.
I shrug, trying to downplay it, because it’s just a place.
‘Honestly, it's not all that different from Leeds,’ I tell them. ‘Just bigger and busier.’
Mel raises an eyebrow.
‘Come on, it has to be more interesting than that,’ she pushes me. ‘Do you run into celebrities all the time?’
‘I bet you can’t go into a café without seeing a movie star,’ Angie adds. ‘I’ve seen Notting Hill.’
I’ve seen Jaws but I’m not expecting a shark to pop out of the sea just outside the window and start eating people – I’m not not rooting for it though.
‘Not really,’ I tell them. ‘I mean, I've seen a couple of vaguely famous people, but it's not like they’re everywhere. Most of the time, it's just regular people going about their day.’
‘What about the nightlife?’ Mel asks, pausing to sip her drink. ‘Is it as wild as they make it seem on TV?’
‘Oh my God, do you do drugs?’ Angie asks, followed by a gasp. ‘I heard everyone does drugs in London.’
‘People do drugs here in Marram Bay,’ I point out. ‘But, no, I don’t do drugs, and yes, Mel, the nightlife is great. There is more choice than there is here.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with here,’ Angie reminds me. ‘And this is Mel’s boyfriend’s pub, don’t forget.’
Wow, I really can’t say the right thing, can I?
‘Do you ever get caught up in any drama, like people fighting in the street or dramatic breakups in fancy restaurants?’ Mel asks, clearly not offended.
I can’t help but laugh.
‘No, my life wasn’t all that exciting,’ I tell her. ‘Sorry.’
‘Why on earth would you leave?’ Angie asks.
‘The cost of living,’ I reply. ‘And, well, this is my home. It’s good to be home.’
Angie eyeballs me suspiciously.
‘And free,’ she points out.
‘I guess,’ I reply with an awkward laugh. ‘But I’m going to find a job here, get my own place, and see about settling back in.’
I mean, I’m not certain that’s what I’m going to do, but it’s all I’m willing to tell her.
I spot the mysterious Mr L walking across the pub and my heart skips a beat.
‘I’ll be right back, I’ll just nip to the loo,’ I tell them, standing up.
‘No worries,’ Mel replies.
Oh, God, what am I doing? I’m stalking him now? Who am I, Joe from “ You” ?
I guess I am because I follow him around the corner and up the stairs. Bloody hell, this place is like a Wetherspoons, it’s a genuine trek to the loos.
He goes through a door marked "toilets," so I pick up the pace, only to find myself in a corridor full of doors, so I’m guessing the loos are individual now.
There’s no sign on the door next to me, but there’s a bit of tape, as though a sign might have fallen off. I decide to go in there for a few minutes, then walk back out, hoping to bump into him on the way back downstairs.
I walk through the door, into a small room with one cubicle and one sink. I head to the cubicle, pushing the door, only to realise it’s locked. It makes a loud clatter as I try it.
‘Someone’s in here,’ a voice calls out. Yep, it definitely sounds like Mr L. Perfect.
Panic hits me, and I bolt for the door, clumsily crashing into it. A loud snapping noise follows. I look down at the floor and see a splintered piece of wood and a paper sign saying to ensure the doorstop is in place at all times, because the door gets stuck. Oh God.
I try the door, but it won’t open. This is so embarrassing. Why did I stalk him into the actual toilet? And now I’ve trapped us both in here. He’s technically a hostage at this point.
I hear a flush and a few seconds later Mr L emerges from the cubicle.
‘Hi,’ he says with a cheeky laugh. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
He washes his hands, smiling at me in the mirror as I try to find the words.
‘The door is jammed,’ I blurt out. I didn’t look very hard for the right words, it turns out
‘Oh?’ he says.
‘You're welcome to try and open it, I won’t be offended, but I can't get it open,’ I tell him.
Mr L tries the door and shakes his head.
‘Oh boy, that is stuck.’
‘Can you call the pub for help?’ I suggest. ‘I left my bag with my friends.’
He looks sheepish.
‘I left my phone on my table too,’ he tells me.
Shit. I start to feel the walls closing in.
‘I’ve just learned, in the most inconvenient way, that I’m a little claustrophobic,’ I inform him – I’m technically informing myself too, I had no idea.
I slide down the wall, sinking to the floor, unsure what else to do.
‘Don’t worry,’ he reassures me, sitting down next to me and placing an arm around my shoulders. ‘Someone will come up soon and either open the door from the outside or realise we’re stuck and get help.’
‘Thanks,’ I reply, but I am really panicking. If he wasn’t so hot, and I wasn’t trying to play it vaguely cool still, I would probably be really embarrassing myself right about now.
He squeezes my shoulder gently.
‘Hey, what's your favourite movie?’ he asks me, his tone more upbeat.
‘Titanic,’ I tell him, my voice wobbling.
He laughs.
‘Titanic? No wonder you're claustrophobic,’ he jokes. ‘That film would give anyone ideas.’
I can’t help but laugh too.
‘At least we're on dry land, right?’ he reminds me, and I nod. ‘And no water is coming in. Not unless someone turns a tap on.’
I relax a little, laughing at his joke.
‘What's your favourite film?’ I ask.
‘The Godfather,’ he replies.
‘Don't all boys say that?’
‘Yes, but I mean it,’ he says with a smile. ‘You can learn a lot about family and loyalty from it.’
‘I just moved back in with my parents, and it’s a bit like moving in with the mafia,’ I say, feeling relaxed enough to crack jokes.
‘I can appreciate that. My mum can be a handful,’ he says. ‘And my dad left us when I was younger.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I tell him sincerely.
‘It's okay. It was a long time ago,’ he replies. ‘A real man makes his own family.’
I snort.
‘Is that a sort of Titanic reference?’ I check.
The corners of his mouth twitch into a smile. I exhale deeply, feeling more at ease.
‘How was your vile-looking blue drink?’ he asks curiously.
‘It was nice,’ I reply. ‘Like a trip down memory lane. I only had a few sips, but I think my tongue might be blue.’
‘Let’s see,’ he says, leaning in closer.
I poke out my tongue, leaning in too. He looks at it and smiles, then he looks me in the eye.
Slowly, I put my tongue back in my mouth. Are we having a moment right now?
I leave my lips parted slightly, sort of hopefully. He starts to lean in, and just when we’re about to kiss, the door bursts open.
‘Oh my god, there you are!’ Mel says. She gives Eric a slap on the arm. ‘You need to get this door fixed. If I hadn't wondered where Leah was, she could have been stuck in here all night.’
A few seconds ago, I don’t think I would have minded.
As Eric begins to apologise to Mr L, Mel hooks her arm with mine, dragging me off. ‘Eric owes us champagne for this, and we're going to sit in the private room, just us girls. It’s the least he can do,’ she tells me.
I go with her but secretly I just want to spend more time with Mr L. And now I'm kicking myself because why on earth didn’t I ask him his name? I feel so weird, calling him Mr L, even if it’s only in my head. Ah well, I’ll just have to find him later and ask. Suddenly, living back home doesn’t seem so bad.